


root growth

by renecdote



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Ohana, Rotating POV, Season/Series 01, Team as Family, Vignettes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-04
Updated: 2020-04-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 19:14:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23472283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renecdote/pseuds/renecdote
Summary: Teams might be forged in action, but family happens in the spaces in between, planting roots and growing like flowers sprung up between the cracks in concrete.(Season One. Unconnected scenes. No specific episodes.)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 38





	root growth

**Author's Note:**

> This started as a warmup exercise and became a handful of loosely connected scenes revolving around the idea of team as family. They are mostly Steve-centric because it began as thought exercises in how Steve shows he cares and is cared about in return.
> 
> Intended to be set during season one, but no spoilers for anything that happens.

**1**

They gear up quickly, efficiently, practiced after several months of doing this side by side. Kono clips her vest on, checks her handgun and spare ammo, then starts inspecting the rifle she’s going to use today. 

“Here.”

Steve is beside her suddenly, holding out a pair of earmuffs. 

“Mahalo,” she murmurs, taking them with a smile. They hook comfortably around her neck, leaving her hands free to tug at Steve’s vest, make sure everything is properly secured. He lets her, moving to do his own check of her as soon as she’s done, and Kono wonders, not for the first time, whether he and his team in the navy did this kind of thing.

Its only been four months but she feels more at home with Five-0 than she has anywhere since… No, maybe even including Coral Prince. There is no sense of rivalry here, no spikes of jealousy when her friends beat her out in competitions, no nagging fear that no matter how close she felt to them, they might resent her for being better or worse or even just average. Her team now have her back, always, no matter what. 

Chin and Danny are near the front of the car, laughing about something as they check each other’s gear. Kono catches Chin’s eye and smiles, turning it toward Steve instead when he puts a hand on her shoulder.

“Ready?” he asks. This is a planned operation instead of a spontaneous bust, for once, so they have time for these kinds of questions.

“Just a sec,” Kono replies, and she reaches into the trunk to grab the knife that Steve gave her when she graduated from the academy and joined Five-0, sliding it into the sheath around her thigh. She grins up at him. “Can never be too prepared right?”

Steve grins back. “You know, Danny thinks I’m corrupting you.”

Kono looks back over at Danny and Chin. They’ve finished their gear check and are leaning against the open car door now, watching Steve and Kono.

“You are corrupting her,” Danny tells Steve. Then he waves a hand in Kono’s direction, eyes sparkling as he adds, “Just tell me you don’t sleep with that thing. Please. SuperSEAL here has passed on enough of his bad habits.”

“How do you know Steve sleeps with a knife, brah?” Kono retorts. 

Chin laughs, elbowing Danny. Steve rolls his eyes, but it’s hard to tell whether it’s in reaction to Danny’s comment or hers. 

“Children,” he says, shaking his head. “I’m working with children.”

“ _We’re_ the children?” Danny throws back.

And Kono and Chin make eye contact again, more than used to the way that any conversation with Steve and Danny devolves into playful bickering. _Married_ , Chin mouths at her, and Kono rolls her eyes in mock commiseration. Five-0—this team, this family—is about the furthest thing form what Kono expected police work to be like when she joined the academy, but damn if it isn’t the best thing to ever happen to her.

**2**

Danny sets down the cardboard carry tray and begins handing out cups of coffee. He doesn’t bother checking the names written on the sides, knowingthe others will pass them around until they get to the right person. Steve, ever impatient, presses up against his shoulder and reaches around him to snag the paper bag beside the tray.

“Malasadas?” he asks, already opening the bag to fish one out. 

Danny swats at his partner’s hand, half-hearted. “Oi. Didn’t they teach you manners in the army? I was getting to those.”

Steve makes a face. “The navy,” he corrects, with the kind of long-suffering tone that would make anyone think he’s been doing it for six years instead of six months.

Danny rolls his eyes. “Same difference,” he replies, knowing how much it will annoy Steve. And he’s right, Steve’s expression gets one step closer to aneurysm face.

Kono interrupts before Danny can bicker with Steve any further. “Brah,” she complains, wrinkling her nose at her coffee cup like it has personally offended her, “does this have sugar in it?”

Danny squints at the cup. It definitely says Kono, nearly illegible though it is. “The kid making them must have screwed up,” he says.

“Passing the blame, Williams?” Chin teases, eyes laughing above his own (correct to order) coffee. 

“I will have you know that I could order coffee for you ungrateful heathens in my sleep,” Danny retorts, but there’s no sting in it. 

“Sure,” Kono agrees, deceptively mild. “But can you order the right coffees?”

Danny opens his mouth, ready to defend his coffee ordering abilities, but he doesn’t get the chance.

“Here.” SuperSEAL swoops in to fix the situation, plucking Kono’s cup out of her hands and giving her his instead.

Danny eyes him. “I didn’t think you liked sugar in your coffee either,” he points out.

“I don’t,” Steve replies, but he doesn’t grimace when he takes a sip. Doesn’t even twitch. Danny almost wants to ask whether situations like these are covered by SEAL torture training, but Steve is already moving on, nodding toward the screens in front of them as he says, “Chin. Where are we with the money trail?”

Danny takes a sip of his own coffee and winces at how bitter it is. He thinks he just figured out what happened to Kono’s coffee; the barista didn’t add sugar to one too many, he just labelled them wrong. The others are all focused on the bank statements Chin is weaving together like magic, so Danny subtly nudges his coffee cup over and quietly switches it with the one in front of Steve. Steve notices, of course, and he shoots Danny a look of amusement, but he doesn’t call him on it. Danny makes a face back at him and takes a long drink of his appropriately sweetened coffee. He adds a bite of malasada to the mix and, yeah, that right there? Perfect heaven. Steve might disagree agree, but moments like these are infinitely better than going out and getting shot at.Infinitely.

**4**

The stitches are small, only a little wobbly. Steve probably could have done a better job himself—definitely could have had a better job done by a doctor—but that’s not the point. 

“It’s good practice,” Steve tells Danny when his partner walks into the office and almost explodes at the sight of Steve covered in blood and Kono holding a needle to his skin. Kono, good student that she is, doesn’t so much as hesitate at the interruption. Her lip is between her teeth, hair pulled back into a hasty bun, the picture of concentration as she adds another stitch to her handiwork.

“Good practice for _what_?” Danny asks incredulously. “The apocalypse?”

“If it comes to that,” Steve says seriously, mostly because he knows how it will get under Danny’s skin. He grins, unrepentant while Danny splutters about zombie and neanderthals and “don’t think I don’t know you’d be the first one to sacrifice yourself to stop an apocalypse, Steven, the odds of you even making it far enough to need stitches is—“

“Hey,” Steve protests, on principle more than anything, “I know for a fact that I would survive an apocalypse because your stubborn ass would be there stopping me from dying.”

Danny goes all quiet and chuffed, but only for a moment. “Do not think saying nice things to me will distract me from the fact that you have the rookie stitching up your arm, Steven,” he says, jabbing a pointed finger at the arm in question.

Kono looks up then, giving Danny a lazy smile. “Relax, brah, I got this. My mom had me helping her sew as soon as I was old enough to hold a needle.”

Steve knows that Kono has also had more than your standard first aid training, the kind that covers things like stitches and remote survival aid, but he doesn’t bother pointing that out.

Danny’s hands go up. “Oh good,” he says, dripping with more sarcasm than the amount of maple syrup Gracie drowns her pancakes in. “You can sew clothes--that’s exactly the same as human skin.”

“I could have called Max, if you’d prefer,” Steve offers. “He’s got a lot of experience with human skin.”

Danny looks like he doesn’t know whether he wants to hit Steve or just give up and walk away. “Only you,” he tells Steve, “would be more comfortable getting medical treatment from someone who deals with dead bodies than going to the hospital.”

Steve doesn’t mention that he’s had medical treatment done by people a lot less qualified than someone who works in a morgue. Things a lot more serious than a handful of stitches from a knife that got a bit too close, too. 

“The cut wasn’t that bad,” is what he says. “And Kono is doing a fine job.”

Danny shakes his head. He doesn’t argue anymore though, maybe realising just how pointless it is, especially since the stitches are almost done now.

Kono pats Steve’s shoulder and he looks down and finds that she has finished, the last stitch tied off, five dark lines of suture just waiting to be smeared with antibiotic cream and bandaged. He pokes gently around the wound, nodding approvingly. 

“They look good,” he says, giving Kono a smile. “Thanks.”

She smiles back. “No worries, boss.”

Danny leans in to peer at Steve’s arm himself. “Not bad,” he says, only a little grudgingly. His eyes flick up to Steve’s face. “I still think you should have an actual doctor look at it though.”

Steve sits still while Kono nudges Danny back and begins wrapping a bandage around his bicep. “Then call Max and invite him out for drinks tonight,” he says. “I’ll let him take a look at them. But I can tell you already that he’s just going to say keep them dry and take them out in a week.”

“You mean have a doctor take them out in a week.”

“That’s what I said.”

Danny rolls his eyes, grumbling again about real doctors and dead bodies, but he pulls out his phone and begins dialling Max. Steve looks around for the clean t-shirt he’d grabbed before sitting down and finds Kono grinning at him as she holds it out.

“Drinks?” she says. 

“Your first beer is one me,” Steve tells her.

“Only my first?” Kono jokes.

He smiles. “Maybe the second as well.” The stitches pull when he moves his arm to get his shirt on. “You’ve definitely earned it today.”

**5**

“I’ll buy you a new one.”

Danny doesn’t look at him, just keeps glaring out the window.

Steve’s hands are tight on the steering wheel. He forces them to relax. “I’m sorry, okay? Didn’t I say I was sorry?” 

More silence. More glaring. Steve waits another beat and—

“That’s not the point, Steven.” Yep, there it is, the dam wall cracking and splintering under the weight of Danny’s overwhelming emotions. He can never keep silent long, especially not when he’s got a gripe with Steve over whatever latest offence he’s committed. “You tackled someone off the docks while holding _my_ phone. You didn’t even drop it before launching yourself into the water! How am I supposed to talk to my daughter tonight, huh? How am I supposed to call Grace without a phone?”

“You can use mine,” Steve offers, then immediately winces. Not helpful, he thinks, right before Danny points that out for him.

“And how am I supposed to do that?” His hands are moving now too, as though his voice isn’t loud enough on its own. “In case you have forgotten, I get to go home at the end of a stressful day of being shot at, to my nice crappy apartment where I don’t have to see your ugly mug for twelve to fourteen blissful hours because _we don’t live together_.”

Steve opens his mouth, then thinks better of all the things he could say to that and bites his tongue instead. They’re approaching an orange light so he slows down, flicking on the indicator to turn right. Only a few more blocks and they’ll be back at headquarters. 

“I’ll buy you a knew phone,” he repeats.

Danny just shakes his head. “You’re impossible, you know that?” He grouches.

Steve frowns. Yes, okay, it’s his fault that Danny’s phone is somewhere at the bottom of the harbour. But he’s trying to fix it. 

“Do you not want me to buy you a new phone?” he asks.

“I want—” and Danny emphasises it with another sharp hand movement “—you to stop pulling stupid, reckless stunts that get my phone ruined in the first place.”

Steve is gripping the steering wheel too tight again. “I did what I had to do,” he defends. “Hansen was going to get away.”

“I know that!” Danny snaps. He almost growls in frustration and turns back to glaring out the window. 

Steve has a feeling this isn’t about the phone anymore, but it’s only a small feeling, not big enough to risk having his head bitten off by pointing it out. He keeps his focus on the road, speedometer kept perfectly at the speed limit even though he wants nothing more than to push his foot down and speed. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Danny,” he says, his own frustration winding the words up tight. “I’m sorry about your phone. I saw Hansen running and I just reacted. Next time, I’ll make sure I take the time to finish my conversation with Chin before I take down our fleeing suspect.”

“Next time,” Danny mutters. He turns back to face Steve, turns his whole body, and Steve gets that feeling down his spine again, that whatever Danny is about to say isn’t going to have anything to do with the phone. “You’re an idiot, you know that? What I want is for there to be no next time!”

Steve risks a glance away from the road. 

“I thought you were dead,” Danny continues. “I saw you tackle Hansen and then the gun went off and you both disappeared into the water. I thought you’d been shot and were sinking to the bottom of the ocean to be fish food, and you know what my only thought was? I couldn’t even call for help because my damn phone had gone to die with you.”

Guilt squirms in Steve’s stomach. He firmly pushes it down. 

“I’m sorry,” he says again, feeling like a broken record.

And this time Danny just sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “And you’d also do it again in a heartbeat.”

He would. There’s no point trying to argue it. 

“I’ll bet you even enjoyed it,” Danny adds.

Steve wisely keeps his mouth closed.

**6**

The house is dark. When there is no response to Chin’s knock on the door, he only hesitates a moment before heading around the side, pushing the branches of an overgrown bush away from his face as he steps out onto the lanai. It’s dark out there too, no sign of light or life. Steve’s truck is parked out the front though so Chin is sure that he’s home.

The back door is closed but not locked. Years of police work have Chin’s senses tingling and he skips turning on the lights, using the torch on his phone to sweep over the kitchen, then the living room. There are no signs of a struggle. No signs of Steve either, but no reason to think something bad has happened to him.

“Steve?” Chin tries calling, finally reaching for the switch to flood the living room with light. There is no reply, so he wanders through the house, checking the garage and the study, even going upstairs. Still no Steve. Standing in the living room again, he gets out his phone to try calling.

“Hey.”

Chin jumps, whirling around, automatically reaching for a weapon that isn’t on his hip. He comes face-to-face with Steve standing in the kitchen doorway, dripping wet and shirtless, a beach towel draped around his shoulders.

“Sorry,” Steve apologises. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

Chin takes a breath, laughs a little as he calms his heart. “No, it’s fine. I should have been expecting you in your own house. I was just looking for you actually, it seemed like the place was empty.”

“I just got back from a swim,” Steve says, pointing a thumb back over his shoulder toward the beach. He moves past Chin, scooping up the cellphone that Chin hadn’t even noticed on charge beside the couch. “You need me for something?”

There is a gun tucked into the back of his board shorts that Chin is sure must have been pointed at him before Steve realised who was in his house. He’s suddenly glad that he decided to turn the lights on; coming up against a surprised Steve McGarrett in the dark is not his idea of a good time. Even if Chin had his own weapon, the odds are stacked so high against him that even he wouldn’t bet on himself.

“I just wanted to check in,” he says, hands finding the pockets of his jeans. “You disappeared from HQ pretty quick after we wrapped up the case, I wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

Something flickers across Steve’s face so fast that Chin almost missed it, but if he had to guess he’d say it was surprise. 

“I’m fine,” Steve says. “You didn’t have to come check on me.”

Chin shrugs. “That’s what ohana do, right?”

He doesn’t bother mentioning that he and Kono had had a short but intense discussion about which one of them was going to do the checking. Danny probably would have just skipped the discussion and done it himself if he hadn’t left before Steve to pick up Grace for the weekend.

Steve’s smile is more in the lines around his mouth and eyes than the upturning of his lips. He holds up his phone. “This wouldn’t have anything to do with the two missed calls I have from your cousin, would it? Or the dozen texts from Danny about—” he squints at the phone screen “—sea turtles. What the hell.”

Chin laughs. “I think he was helping Grace with a school project tonight.”

Steve fiddles with his phone for a moment, tapping out replies in short, quick movements. Then he puts the phone back down, looking lost for a moment before he says, “I have beer, if you…”

Chin jumps on it. “Beer sounds great,” he replies, something relaxing in his chest when he realises that Steve isn’t going to kick him out. He believes Steve’s assurances that he’s fine, feels confident that he knows Steve well enough by now to tell if he wasn’t, but he can’t deny that a part of him feels better being there to see it himself. And if Steve wants company, Chin definitely isn’t going to say no. 

“Why don’t you go get changed?” he says. “I know where the beer is.”

Steve nods and heads upstairs. And as Chin grabs two beers and settles onto the couch, eyes drawn like magnets to the spots where he knows there used to be bloodstains, he knows coming by was the right choice. 

**6**

Steve beats the sun to work, nodding at the lone security guard in the foyer and winding his way up the stairs to the team’s offices. He doesn’t bother turning lights on, steps silent but sure as he moves through the space. A glow from Chin’s office catches his eye and he sticks his head in, concern tickling beneath his skin, but it’s just the computer screen frozen halfway through shut down. Steve takes a moment to turn it off then continues to his own office.

He spends a couple of hours replying to emails and going through case notes before the main office door squeaks open and Kono’s boots tap across the floor. Steve glances up, catches her wave through the open blinds and waves back. She goes into her own office then comes immediately back out, beelining toward him.

“Morning boss,” she greets with a smile. “You want coffee? Chin was going to grab some on his way in, I can call and put in an order.”

Steve leans back, feeling the pull of muscles protesting how long he’s been sitting hunched over his laptop. “Coffee sounds good,” he replies. “Thanks.”

Kono nods and ducks back out, calling Chin as she goes. Another email pops into Steve’s inbox and he skims it, types out a quick reply, then gets up to go to the bathroom. When he comes back, he finds that Danny has arrived, already muttering to himself as he searches through the piles of paperwork on his desk.

“Hey,” he calls before Steve can decide whether or not he wants to get in the middle of a grumpy Danny and paperwork. “Have you seen the inventory report for that drug bust two weeks ago? The DA’s office lost their copy and HPD is having computer problems or something so Duke is chasing me for it. Stupid computer decided this morning is the perfect time to update, but I swear I had a hard copy…”

“Good morning to you to,” Steve says. When Danny just blinks at him, he rolls his eyes. “I’ll email the report to the DA. You know, you should really file the hard copies of all your paperwork after a case is closed.”

He ducks out before Danny can wind up into an argument, hiding a smile at the retort about control freaks that is thrown at his back. The sun is well and truly up now and the office is alive. They all congregate by the computer table when Chin arrives, the smell of coffee drawing them out like moths to a flame. Steve is just going to grab his, thank Chin, then retreat back into his office, mind spinning with the dozens of things he needs to get done today, but he finds himself pulled into conversation instead.

“We’ll have to go snorkelling sometime,” Chin is saying, and Steve isn’t really sure how they got here but he nods along anyway. “I know a few places that don’t see many tourists; quiet, beautiful reefs, too.”

Steve doesn’t think he’s been snorkelling since he was a kid. Not for fun, at least.

“This weekend?” he suggests.

Kono and Danny are roped into it too, comments about how much fun Grace would have overriding Danny’s protests. Steve leans against the tech table watching them all, their bright smiles and chatter washing away the last dregs of the unsettled night that drove him out of bed and into the office so early. When he’d climbed into his truck, he thought he was searching for work to distract himself, but now that he’s here he knows what it really was he wanted. This. His team. His family.

They should probably get down to work, but Steve doesn’t try to hurry them along. A few more minutes of talking and laughing won’t hurt. In fact, it might even do some good. He pushes away thoughts of all the other things that need his attention and lets himself just enjoy the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading :) Kudos and comments are always appreciated, or you can find me on tumblr [here](https://renecdote.tumblr.com/).


End file.
